Half Missing
by fakescorpion
Summary: Part#3/4, slight spoilers for SPN episode 2x05 Simon Said. Ansem Weems met the MacManus twins in Oklahoma and the events that leaded to his obsession to be close to his own twin brother.


_disclaimer: I don't own SPN, BDS, or any of their characters._

_The first interlude in the __**Chosen by Destiny **__series, the timeline was set before __**Familiar Strangers**__ (around a week or so after BDS1 with Connor and Murphy laying low and heading for California) __but __is a pre-episode of SPN 2x05 Simon Said and it can be read separately._

_Ansem Weems by chance met the MacManus twins in Oklahoma and the events that leaded to his obsession to be close to his own twin brother. Rated T for typical MacManus language._

* * *

_**Half Missing**_

All his life he had felt like something important was missing.

Like when he laughed, his gaze would absent-mindedly drifted off to the empty seat beside him and expected to hear an echoed laughter that wasn't there; like when he woke in the middle of the night when he was younger from a nightmare, he would look for someone to ruffle his hair and lay a hand of comfort, but nobody ever did.

He hadn't known what those empty feelings mean until the day he received a call in an all-too-real dream that told him he was needed in an oncoming war. He hadn't known what those empty feelings meant until he met two angels before he received the call and was blessed by psychic powers of mind-control and was sent onto the battle field.

The angels assured him everything's going to be okay.

Ansem believed that to be true.

_XXX_

Ansem Weems lived in a small town in Oklahoma with his father for as long as he remembered since he had lost his mother when he was barely five in an accident that his father had always blamed him for. His memory of his childhood contained nothing but being bruise and hurt and hiding behind the locked door of a small closet trying to avoid the next beating from his drunken and always depressed father.

When he entered elementary, he'd been making up excuses to stay at his friends' house to evade his father, if only for a couple of days at a time. And he started spending times on the street and night pubs since high school. How he managed to survive until the graduation ceremony and got accepted into the local community college will forever be a mystery to him as he rarely had anytime for studying.

Maybe it was because he just happened to be a little talented at computer hacking and had also made some money that wasn't technically illegal along the way by helping others like himself getting pass bothersome tests.

To the few people that knew anything about him, Ansem was no more than a common street-walking scumbag in the making.

He wouldn't blame them. He didn't know what he should do since he was kicked out of college in his sophomore year. He had no home he could call 'his' as far as he was concerned.

And as he lied in a battered heap by the dumpster in a dark alleyway, with three people who used to be his 'friend' a couple minutes ago before he got caught cheating in the card game because he really needed the money towering over him–one of which holding a mental rod that just been used to broke his left arm–he felt the familiar loneliness knowing that nobody's going to held out a hand.

But for the first time, he was wrong.

There was a call and a snicker and as Ansem tried turning his pounding head a bit, he saw two men that slung an arm around each other in a slightly drunken manner standing at the mouth of the alleyway. Things jumbled together after that as he thought whoever those idiots were, they were in for a round of beating as well.

What he didn't expect was to hear the sound of a single gunfire.

The next moment, the guy that beat him with the rod was bleeding at the hand. One of the two mysterious men was holding a gun that had a silencer.

"It's not nice..." The darker hair–the gun holder–slurred his words. "...ta beat people up like tha."

And Ansem was too shocked that a man who was drunk enough that couldn't even speak properly could hold a gun steady to notice the three men scramming away.

He wasn't sure what happened after that as he must have passed out for the next thing he knew, he was waking up in the backseat of a car. Left arm bandaged and fixated with a wooden plank to make a temporary plaster.

"How's yer arm?" The same darker hair leaned over the shotgun-seat and exhaled smoke, a boyish spark and slight drunken giddiness never leaving his eyes.

"Hurt." Ansem answered, sitting up and holding his head. "How long...?"

"'bout half an hour." The blond that was driving answered. "Sorry we couldn't take ya ta te hospital."

"Where're we going?" Ansem asked.

"We thought o' takin' ya ta te motel. Ya know, ta rest." It was the darker hair talking again, and Ansem couldn't help but notice the unique tattoo on his neck. "But since ya're awake, ya can tell us where ya live."

Ansem fell silent at that and felt his headache growing. He didn't have anywhere to go.

"Or ya 'ave somewhere else in mind?"

"I kindda...live on the street."

The man looked at him questioningly and again blew smoke in his face.

"So you guys can just...drop me anywhere..."Ansem's voice grew weaker as he blushed in embarrassment.

"Hmm..." The man turned and gave the driver a gentle punch on the shoulder. "Whaddya say, Conn?"

Ansem watched the exchange quietly as the blond considered the question. There was something about the two men that seemed both familiar and foreign. And Ansem found himself slightly jealous without knowing why.

He was attacked by hot flashes of pain in the head again and he rubbed his temple.

"Ya okay?" The darker one slung his arms over the back of the seat again and asked.

"Could you...like give me some aspirins before dumping me by the side of the road?" Ansem asked, not doubting they would just pull over right then and there as he never really met anybody that cared.

He was wrong again. And they proved to him that kind-hearted angels that ask nothing in return actually existed that day.

"We dun 'ave any aspirins. But we're Irish..." The darker gun wielder–who he later know as Murphy–told him. "Tha means we drink our fuckin' problems away."

So ten minutes later, Ansem found himself sitting at the counter of a small but friendly bar. With Connor–the blond driver–on his right and Murphy on his left.

"What do you guys do for a living anyway?"

"We used ta work in a slaughterhouse." Connor shook his head. "But we live on whatever our Da left us a' te moment."

"Aye." Murphy echoed merrily, draining another purplish shot.

The topic of their conversation varied wildly as they steadily became more drunk.

"So you say you guys are brothers, huh?"

"Twins." Connor said, laughing. "But I'm older."

"Am not!"

"Am so!"

And the two brothers ended up slapping each other–and sometimes accidentally getting Ansem since he was sitting in the middle but still seemed always aware of his injured arm–for a while after that.

There was much laughter and for a few minutes, Ansem forget all of his worries and was truly happy. Maybe for the first time in his life.

But then as Murphy lit a cigarette and got up to throw an arm around Connor, Ansem looked around expecting another laughter that wasn't there. His face dropped.

"Wha's wrong?" Connor discerned it almost immediately.

"I...it's just that..." Ansem began. "I've always felt that something was...missing..."

Murphy gently squeezed his uninjured right shoulder as he seemed to be the more touching-type of the two twins while Connor gave him a genuine smile.

"How could you both be so nice?" Ansem asked, whole body quivering with gratitude. "You could be saints or...angels..."

Murphy laughed, hugging him close. "Ya had too much ta drink."

"But we could be Murph." Connor chuckled. "They say angels were created in pairs."

"Who're _they_ Conn? Ya sure it wasn't another one o' yer shtupid movies?" Murphy teased, blowing a smoke ring into his brother's face. But for an answer, Connor just stole the smoke and took a drag.

"Dun worry." Connor assured Ansem after returning the materialized-lung-cancer to Murphy. "Everythin's goin' ta be okay."

And Ansem believed them.

_XXX_

Ansem had another round of agonizing headache just as he finished washing his hands after taking a piss and he ended up collapsing onto the cold bathroom tiles as his body went limp. It was the second time he passed out that day but this time it seemed only a few minutes passed before Ansem started to stir.

He rubbed a hand through his slightly long brown hair and used the sink counter as leverage to get up as his legs were shaky–

And saw a dark figure standing right behind him through the mirror. Glaring at him with bright yellow eyes.

Ansem stumbled as he spun around, knuckles turning white from gripping the sink too tightly. Voice suddenly deserted him as he couldn't even make out a sound to call for help.

"Ansem, my dear child." The..._thing_...said, in a false-friendly and mockingly way.

"Who are you?" Ansem asked in something less than a terrified whisper. But what he really wanted to asked was 'What are you?'

"It doesn't matter who I am. The thing that matters is who are you going to be?"

"What do you mean?"

The man with yellow eyes smiled at that. A smile the seemed to make the very temperature drop a few degrees. "I hope that headache wasn't too much. But it was a rather small price to pay considering the powerful abilities I gave you."

"Abilities? What do you mean by abilities? You did this–headache–to me? Why?"

"Tsk, tsk. So many questions." The man said, shaking his head. "All you have to know is that there's a war coming and I have big plans for you, oh yes, big plans for you...and your brother."

"What? M-my what?"

"Your brother. Twin in fact." The man answered. "Poor child, so naïve...didn't your parents ever tell you that you were adopted?"

Ansem closed his eyes, heart racing like running a marathon. And somehow pictures of the way Connor and Murphy smiled and laughed together clouded his mind. Now he knew why he felt so _incomplete_ all his life.

Yellow eyes twinkling, the man held out a hand and twirled a piece of paper between his fingers. "Consider it to be another gift from me, but ah, one more thing...you can't tell him you're his twin. Can you promise me that?"

Ansem nodded, eyes never leaving the piece of paper that's just out of reach.

"Excellent."

And with that, Ansem jerked awoke with both Connor and Murphy leaning over him, identical looks of concern on their faces.

"Are ya okay? Should we...call the ambulance or nothin'?"

"No! No...I..." Suddenly, Ansem's throat gone dry as he felt something crunch in his fist. He slowly held it up to find a small piece of paper with only three words: _Andrew Gallagher. Oklahoma._ And all he could think of was 'I have a twin, I have a twin' over and over.

"Ya sure ya're okay?" Connor asked again, helping him up as Murphy supported him from the other side.

"Yes, I'm fine." Ansem said, trying to stand on his own as they leave the bar and made for the parking lot.

"Ya sure ya dun need te hospital?" Murphy said, knowingly looking at his injured arm. "'cause Connor's medical capacity suck ass."

"Really, I'm fine." Ansem stated, firmly this time, as he gently pushed them away to indicate that he was really fine. And so suddenly, the two noisy brothers shut up. Like there was this switch that's been turned off.

But Ansem didn't notice the change as there's only one thing in his mind. "Look, I've just remembered something I've gotta do..."

Connor nodded but didn't press. "We'll be leaving town in te mornin' but in te mean time if ya need us, we'll be happy ta help."

Ansem smiled, sincerely this time. "No, it's really just my problem...I..." He looked at them.

Connor and Murphy. Brothers. Twins. Neither complete without the other.

And his heart ached. As his hand reached for the empty space beside him.

"You guys are angels aren't you?" Ansem asked abruptly. "_Aren't you_?"

He needed them to confirm it. That they really were celestial beings with invisible wings God had sent. To tell him what it's like to feel whole, complete. To tell him that there's a special bound between twins even if they weren't raised together. To tell him what it's like to willingly give anything and everything for one another.

Anything and everything.

And...

"Aye."

Two voices that sounded as one.

And a huge weight was released from Ansem's heart as he tried throwing his only good arm around the two brothers.

"Thank you."

And that was the last thing he said to them before he returned to the bar. Alone.

Leaving the MacManus twins looking at each other, equally puzzled, by their car.

"Conn."

"Aye."

"Why did we just say that?"

"Aye."

And it was a mystery they never solve as they were both too drunk to remember anything more than a vague memory of Ansem in the following morning after an acute hangover.

And they never knew their words would be twisted so.

As Ansem discovered his abilities of mind-control and dialed a phone home.

"Dad, listen to me."

He would make up for all the time he and Andy had lost and they would be close like they were supposed to be. Like Connor and Murphy.

"Listen to me carefully."

_Everything's going to be okay._

Because the angels told him so.

* * *

_If Connor and Murphy were separated when they were little, would one (or both) of them flip when they found out, like Ansem? If one of them actually did, which one do you think it would be? I've been thinking about it while I wrote this. Please R&R, and tell me what you think, I would really appreciate it._

_And thx to all for reading._


End file.
